Two policemen--The Terran Police--entered quietly and stood aside as
the third man entered cautiously.
Channing's feet came off the desk and hit the floor with a crash.
"The spectre at the feast," snorted Channing. "Of all the people I
know, I least expected you--and wanted to see you least. I hope it is
a mutual affection, Kingman."
"Don't be godlike, Channing," said Kingman coldly. "You may think
you're running things all your way, but some people object to being
made a rubber stamp."
"Look, Kingman, get whatever is on that little mind of yours damn well
off it so I can continue as I was."
"Channing, I have here papers of disenfranchisement."
"In--deed?"
"Right."
Channing smiled.
"Don't be so damned superior," snapped Mark Kingman.
"Tell me, Markus, just why this disenchantment takes place?"
"Venus Equilateral suspended operations on Twenty December," said
Kingman. "Without notice nor permission nor explanation. Since
the relay-beams of Venus Equilateral have carried nothing for a
period beyond that permitted for suspension of operations by the
Interplanetary Communications Commission, they have seen fit to revoke
your license."
"Well! And after all I've done," said Channing.
"You see--you think you can get away with anything. Doubtless this
ultra-frigid condition was the cause of failure?"
"Possibly. And then again, maybe someone wanted to make ice cream."
"Don't be flippant. You'll find that these papers are final and
complete. You'll not be able to talk your way out of it."
"Tell me, O Learned Legal Light, who is going to run Venus Equilateral
when I am far away?"
"Some time ago Terran Electric applied for a franchise and took an
option pending failure at Venus Equilateral. This failure has taken
place and Terran Electric now controls--
"I gather that you've been forced to put Terran Electric up as bail for
the license?"
Kingman flushed.
"Find that Terran Electric wasn't worth much?" jeered Channing.
"Sufficient," said Kingman.
"Did it ever occur to you that maybe Venus Equilateral wasn't worth
much either?" asked Channing.
"I'll make it work for me. And I'll also report that one of your wild
experiments got loose and nearly froze the station out completely. I
still say that if you'd stopped toying around with everything that came
along, Venus Equilateral would still be a running corporation."
"I daresay you're right. But the devil finds work for idle hands, you
know. So just what is the future holding?"
"Channing, your attitude is entirely frivolous and unconvinced that I
mean business. To convince you, I'm going to give you twelve hours to
relinquish the station and be on your way from here!"
"May I point out that this is Christmas?"
"I've investigated that," returned Kingman. "I find that Christmas is
a completely Terran date and is therefore legal for any and all legal
action on any planet or place removed from the interplanetary boundary
of the planet Terra. That, Channing, has been established to be the
Channing Layer."
"And how about the personnel? Must they get the hell off too?" asked
Channing loftily.
"You and your managerial cohorts must leave. Those upon whom
the continued service of communications depend are requested to
remain--under new management."
"You're taking on a big bite," grinned Channing. "I trust you can chew
it."
"I need no help from the likes of you."
"Good. And now that you've had your say I'll return to my own affairs.
Make yourself at home; you'll not be bothered here."
Kingman nodded slowly. He'd expected a battle, and he believed that
Channing did not think it true. Channing would find damn well out once
he appeared before the Interplanetary Communications Commission.
In the meantime, of course, he might as well remain in the office.
There was an apartment next door, and it was comfortable.
He did not notice that every very personal thing had been removed from
Channing's office. Frankly, Kingman did not care. He had everything his
own way.